


Bloody Good Domestic Living

by BloodylocksBathory



Category: Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, The Silence of the Lambs (1991), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Cooking, Humor, M/M, Morning After, Prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodylocksBathory/pseuds/BloodylocksBathory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The private lives of two wanted criminals: one is a superhuman megalomaniac with a control over metal, the other is a well-mannered doctor with a taste for human flesh. There could be a sitcom in this somewhere...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cellmates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmandaLee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaLee/gifts).



> Another set of drabbles and ficlets, all done for my frequent co-author and all time pallyest of pals, AmandaLee. They ended up being too amusing not to share.

Hannibal Lecter was again reading the same tired out headline in the newspaper. Mutants were the biggest subject to send the populace into a panic all over the world, especially the United States. Most authoritarian groups insisted immediate action against any individual with superhuman abilities, as their mere existence caused unbridled fear. Briefly Hannibal had considered that perhaps he was a mutant as well, but the notion only amused him for a few minutes, nothing more.

 

“You have a new cellmate,” Barney announced one morning as he did his rounds, knocking Hannibal from a quiet reverie. “He’ll be comin’ later in the week, Friday I think.”

 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows at the thought of a cellmate. Clearly a move brought on by Chilton; otherwise the prisoner was never allowed the leisure of a cellmate.

 

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Barney said, sweeping the floor just outside the cell. “Chilton never told me anything, just that it’s a special headline criminal. But if you ask me…”

 

“I do, Barney,”

 

“If you ask me, it’s gotta do with the new mutant that was in the papers.”

 

“Very smart, Barney,” Hannibal replied, glancing at the newspaper headline.

 

MUTANT CRIMINAL CAUGHT, JAIL TO BE CHOSEN

 

*

 

Sure enough, both Hannibal and Barney were proven correct. Chilton, always eager to support his delusions of grandeur, had arranged for the welcoming of the newest and most notorious of mutant criminals into his institution. Arranging him to be Hannibal’s cellmate was no coincidence either. Nowadays, mutant criminals were fitted with a collar which would restrain their abilities, thus making them compliant to any demands.

 

Which meant those who relied solely on mutation to defend themselves were shit out of luck against the rowdiest of prison inmates.

 

Hannibal had been preparing for the arrival of his cellmate with great enthusiasm, at least compared to his usual disposition. He had studied the photographs of the man, read the news articles closely, and within minutes he was bent over his table, eyes and mind focused utterly on the pieces of paper before him. Such a special guest required special attention after all.

 

By the time he was finished his drawings, Friday had rolled around. Chilton had obviously hoped that Hannibal’s behavior combined with the new prisoner’s inhibitor collar would end very unpleasantly. An unpleasant end to the new mutant prisoner? Based on the outcry of the public, the government would likely chalk the casualty up as one less dangerous mutant. Chilton likely saw that as a means to making him look like a hero.

 

Of course to label Chilton as a self-important imbecile would be not only an understatement but a concept too obvious to bother mentioning.

 

He heard door and gates open and close, and in no time he could smell something – someone – new in the aisle. Smiling, he stood up, as it was always polite to stand when welcoming a guest, and waiting. A terrified older man was guided by Barney to the cell, wearing handcuffs and an inhibitor collar. However, when this man locked eyes with Hannibal, his expression changed. Confusion, fear… a possible surprise to see that this cannibal was not what he expected to look like? When the man finally straightened as though gathering his courage and ready to face anything, Hannibal’s smile reappeared.

 

“Good morning,” he addressed him courteously. “You must be Erik Lensherr.”

 

Erik entered the cell quietly nodding briefly at Barney’s reassurance that he would be there should there be anything the new prisoner needed. Though he continued to wear a façade of bravery, Erik remained at his side of the cell, though the size of the cell itself meant keeping his distance would do nothing to aide him. Hannibal meanwhile sat down at the table.

 

“Please have a seat,” he offered. When Erik made no response, Hannibal smiled patiently. “I insist.”

 

Erik regarded the drawings on the walls, several of which depicted him.

 

“You were expecting me,” he presumed. “To what purpose?”

 

“You mean to ask, will I be practicing my personal tastes on you?”

 

Erik nodded and stepped forward. “I suppose I should have asked you outright. If anything, you seem to be honest.”

 

“You’re correct,” Hannibal replied, never breaking eye contact. “And when I say I will be civil to my cellmate, someone who seems just as honest, I indeed will be civil. If I intended to eat you, I would.”

 

Erik glanced outside the cell, then at his new cellmate, and sighed, joining Hannibal at the table.

 

“Considering the circumstances,” he replied. "I suppose that's comforting."

 

Hannibal smiled.


	2. Culinary Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal treats Erik to a meal.

Eric was hungry, practically famished after a chiefly exhausting day, but with someone of his lover’s… tastes, he was apprehensive about accepting his gesture of preparing dinner. For the most part, Eric was immaculately accepting of Hannibal’s behaviors. Everyone had their own little problems, after all, and Eric had certainly met far worse, though to some that sounded like quite a stretch.

 

Either way, if Hannibal ever tried anything pertaining to his eating habits against him, Eric felt certain that he could discipline him with a well aimed heavy metal object.

 

He kept reminding himself that he possibly could, anyway…

 

That evening, his unconventional companion made every courteous gesture possible for an “immaculate dining experience,” down to a brand new table cloth, perfectly aged wine, and no light but tall white candles. Eric, still half naked from their recent escapade under the covers, lifted an eyebrow as Hannibal approached.

 

“A modest work of culinary art for our guest of honor,” he announced as he brought forth the platter. He lifted the cover on the plate and instantly the room was filled with the heavenly aroma of a steak and vegetable dinner. It looked as amazing as it smelled, but Eric still gave his lover a stern look before picking up a knife and fork.

 

“If this is anyone I know, I will be very upset.”


	3. Soothing Salts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Hannibal makes it difficult for Erik to relax.

One of these days, Erik was really going to have to teach Hannibal a lesson. Hannibal called his behavior an exercise in sense of humor. Erik called it morbid and repulsive. The two of them, both distinguished gentlemen of dignity and respect, had made an agreement that their tastes would be respected so long as one would not intrude on the other. Erik would avoid bringing his work home with him so long as Hannibal did not practice his “peculiar eating habits” in front of the other man.

 

However, once in a while Hannibal would fall into the mood of bending the rules.

 

Erik had been taking a long soak in the bathtub, trying to relax after a long and hectic day. Hannibal entered the room innocently enough, wearing a robe and inquiring as to how long his lover would take. When he did not get a definite answer, he merely said “mmmmn” as he always did when taking great consideration at something, and left the room. Merely lifting an eyebrow, Erik leaned back against the rim of the tub once more, hoping that was the end of it.

 

Not five minutes later, Hannibal returned, offering to add more hot water to his companion’s bath. Erik accepted the offer and soon felt the temperature rise, albeit a little hotter than to his liking.

 

“That’s quite enough,” he stated. “I don’t need it too hot.”

 

“Indeed?” Hannibal replied in a tone strangely bordering on naive. “I’ve found some bath salts, if you would care to sample them…?”

 

“That sounds lovely,” Erik said, closing his eyes. He would have continued to enjoy the gesture except that he found the scent of proclaimed bath salts to be familiar. Opening his eyes, he saw the source of the salts in Hannibal’s hand, the word “basil” printed clearly on it. Another bottle was labeled “saffron”.

 

“Hannibal!” Erik exclaimed, sitting forward in his now spiced bathwater. Though he felt like an idiot to ask, he said it anyway. “What is the meaning of this??”

 

“Oh nothing, dearest,” Hannibal said, a sly grin marking his features. “Just simmer for now,” and then quickly correcting himself, “pardon me, I mean ‘sit there’.”

 

Most of the time, Erik could tell when Hannibal was being serious and when he was joking, and right now he was playing a prank, a repulsive one at that. Standing up and not caring that he splashed water everywhere, Erik grabbed a towel and hastily dried himself off, pulling the plug from the tub.

 

“Erik, what seems to be the trouble?” his companion asked, eyes wide and theatrically puzzled. Puerile bastard!

 

“Damn you. I’m going to bed and locking the door!” Erik shouted as he stormed off, wanting nothing to do with his lover’s idiotic games. But before he could finally be granted total peace and quiet, his slammed door was countered with one last response from Hannibal.

 

“But I was just about to add carrots!”


	4. Vital Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking through FBI files...

Out of pure curiosity, Erik Lensherr found himself looking over the shoulder of Hannibal Lecter one evening as the latter used his computer.

“It’s rude to look over one’s shoulder,” Hannibal said casually as he read the article on the screen. “To spy on their work.”

“And what is your ‘work’?” Erik asked, smiling in amusement.

Hannibal looked back at his companion and gestured to the screen. He was using the internet, and currently looking through the ViCAP files of the FBI website, a person’s WANTED file, to be specific.

“That’s not a very flattering photograph of you,” Erik remarked, holding back a chuckle.

Hannibal gave an indignant sniff. “I was not in the disposition to be photographed at the time,” he said, regarding the miserable image of himself staring at them from the computer. “I’m sure Mr. Crawford had a hand in the choice of pictures.”

“Whatever makes you look the most repulsive to the populace, I’m sure,” Erik replied. A few more minutes passed as they read the information in the file until Erik spoke up again.

“… am I still in here?” he asked, knowing the answer to the question. Hannibal’s tone meant he clearly knew that Erik knew, and was only asking so that his file could be summoned.

“Yours was the last I looked at before I began to read mine,” Lecter answered. “Really, you should make it a habit to read yours on a regular basis. You could be missing out on vital information they might have on you… or your location.”

“My apologies, dear,” Erik said frankly, taking the seat when his friend stood and offered it to him. He clicked the back button and instantly up came his own file, labeling him as a dangerous criminal.

“How lovely,” Lensherr said as he read his information. “Thank goodness, ‘location unknown’. They really should look harder… wait…” He reread one scathing piece of information, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Considered mentally unstable?!” he exclaimed as Hannibal placed a hand over his mouth as though politely stifling laughter.


	5. Tastes in Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little date, incognito.

When Erik Lensherr was told he would be spending an afternoon in the park, he was delighted.

Then he found out which park.

He scowled, sitting at the bench and waiting for Hannibal to arrive on their little “date”. When the other man finally did show up, he was wearing a big smile.

“An afternoon in the park, just as I promised.”

Erik turned his head to look behind the bench. A wire link fence separated the two men from a rusty old factory, not used since the 80s.

“How romantic.”

“It’s still a park. Perhaps not the most aesthetically pleasing, but one must think practically. I am still wanted by the authorities you know.”

“Does that explain your attire?” Erik asked, looking at the black clothes his lover wore. Hannibal’s attire also included aviator sunglasses and black converse sneakers. “You look as though you’re about to burgle a residence.”

Hannibal lifted an eyebrow at the remark, his expression barely caught from behind his disguise.

“Says the fellow appearing dressed for avant-garde theatre.”

Erik pouted, realizing his own choice of dress. At least he was wearing age-appropriate shoes. 

As Hannibal discussed where the two should dine for the evening, Erik could not help staring at the baseball style cap his companion was wearing. Black like the rest of his clothing, the hat bore the label S.W.A.T. in bold white letters.

“Do I even want to know where you procured that?” he interrupted. 

Hannibal looked up at his hat, realizing where his lover was staring.

“Just a keepsake, dear.”

“I feared as much,” Erik said with a grimace.


	6. Dream Cruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both have had worse holidays before, but that's a given.

When the offer first came to Erik, he was thrilled. Lying low was something he excelled at, but even presently he had felt like a wild beast in a cage. Even the small amount of space they were allowed in the town win which they presently resided was beginning to tire Erik. Already his companion’s collection of antiquities and wonders from around the globe – the quantity of which bordered on obscene – did nothing to occupy him. So when Hannibal suggested they actually attempt a so-called vacation on a cruise ship, the master of magnetism was elated.

 

Then Hannibal finally revealed the destination of the cruise.

 

“ISRAEL?!”

 

“Oh, that’s amusing, dear Erik,” Hannibal said with a smile which read of smug amusement. “How quickly your mood changed from ridiculously happy to tragic disappointment. I thought you might appreciate the beaches.”

 

“Their beaches are currently swamped with migrating JELLYFISH.”

 

“Exactly,” Hannibal replied. “The rate of tourists will have dropped dramatically. We’ll have less risk of being recognized.”

 

Erik had to admit his companion had a point, but he still hated the idea of taking a vacation to a place infested with poisonous creatures. Still, he had complained so much of his cabin fever that he had no other choice besides stay home. In a matter of days, both men had boarded the ocean liner – booked separately of course to stifle suspicion – and were enjoying the fresh air, travelers’ room service, and onboard entertainment.

 

Thursday night’s ballroom venue included a singer trained in the style of such legends as Ella Fitzgerald and Billy Holiday. Hannibal and Erik had taken a table near the stage and were enjoying their drinks as they listened to the entertainer. A cigarette slowly burned in Hannibal’s fingers as he listened to the woman’s voice.

 

“Not very good…” he mused aloud. “But better than I expected for cruise entertainment.” He glanced at Erik, about to ask his opinion, when he noticed the crossed arms and sour expression.

 

“Something bothering you…?” he asked. He held up the cigarette. “It is not often I find a brand that I bother seeking its use. Besides, the authorities believe I don’t indulge, so it further helps the façade…”

 

“You may as well have found us a boat to Queimada Grande Island,” Erik finally spoke back. “It’s also a lovely place, with even less tourists thanks to all of the snakes. Perhaps we might find something with quicker acting venom.”

 

Hannibal could only smile. Erik had always suspected his friend’s nature led him to base his opinions of others on how much fun he had teasing at their nerves and emotions.

 

“Are you finished?” the slighter man asked.

 

Erik slumped for a moment before reaching forward and taking his glass of wine, sipping at it slowly.

 

“I have had worse holidays,” he admitted. “And so have you, I imagine.”

 

Smoke escaped through Hannibal’s teeth as he smiled. His eerie grin was made all the more so, as though he were a devil in human guise.

 

“We should retire,” he suggested. “This singer is beginning to wear on my ears.”

 

Erik lifted an eyebrow. “Will she be seeing you later for supper?”

 

Hannibal put out his cigarette. “Not tonight. As I said, what can you expect from a cruise ship? Besides, I’m not hungry. But if you are unengaged tonight, I am certain we can arrange something else… in my quarters.”

 

Erik finally managed a smile. This vacation was sounding improved already.


	7. A Meal for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik makes the meal this time. Pure fluff.

Both Erik and Hannibal were dominant personalities, which made lovemaking difficult at times. Ever practical and sensible, Hannibal suggested taking turns. Much to Erik’s disappointment, he could never win over more shifts where he was on top through trickery, using the excuse of shaky memories. Hannibal did have the most irritatingly sharp memory.

 

It was one night that Erik and Hannibal actually had the whole weekend to themselves – without the trouble of dodging authorities or following through with tiresome but necessary lives of aliases – that Erik was in no mood to play bottom. According to the pattern, it was his turn to be bitch to Hannibal’s dog, but he was developing an idea for how to win his own turn.

 

When Hannibal arrived home that Friday evening, he found the table set for two and candles lit. Camille Saint-Saëns was playing on the stereo and a heavenly scent was wafting out from the kitchen door.

 

“Sit down,” Erik called from the doorway. “Dinner will be ready in a few seconds.”

 

Hannibal smiled, taking a seat. Though he had an effortless time teaching his companion the culinary arts, Erik hated cooking. This was a most rare and extraordinary moment that the psychiatrist would relish like none other.

 

The dinner involved three courses, the main divine, the dessert flawless. Erik had brought up a wine of excellent year and Hannibal could not offer enough praise.

 

“I am glad you appreciate my work,” Erik said with a smile. “You see that all your teachings did not simply go through one ear and out the other.”

 

“Thank you, beloved,” Hannibal simply said, stealing a kiss from his lover’s lips. Erik loved the way his friend kissed, hungry and aggressive, but in a way soft, gentlemanly… precise. Hannibal pulled away ever so slowly.

 

“But it is still my turn,” he said.

 

“Oh, you’re incorrigible,” Erik grumbled, emptying his wine glass.


	8. Dinner Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal brings over a visitor. Erik is disappoint. And pissed.

The concert had been amazing, the sights astonishing, the music heavenly, at least Erik had thought so. As he went on and on about how much he loved the show, Hannibal seemed preoccupied. Erik was not quite sure how he could do it, but his companion seemed able to listen and remember every word spoken to him in a conversation and still appear to be totally distracted.

 

“Alright, what’s the matter?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Don’t ‘mmm’ me,” Erik said impatiently. “I can tell when you’re paying attention and when you’re REALLY paying attention. Now what is keeping you so sidetracked?”

 

“The performance,” Hannibal rarely ever lied unless it involved remaining unrecognized as who he really was, a dangerous killer wanted by nearly every authority on earth. “It disappointed.”

 

“Oh of course,” Erik replied with a roll of his blue eyes. “Only you would have found something wrong with the concert. What was it, some sort of inaccuracy to the decorations that only someone with an extensive knowledge of ancient cultural art would have known?”

 

“Nothing of the sort. The violinist was atrocious. He ruined the entire aria.”

 

Erik paused, trying to think of the violinist. So caught up in the show as a whole he had to think very hard.

 

“Well perhaps he was not as good as the others, but he wasn’t that bad”—

 

“Your hearing is not as fine tuned as mine. And I know exactly how that aria is to be played: nowhere near that sloppily.”

 

“You’re impossible,” Erik said, taking Hannibal by the arm. “Why don’t we decide on dinner…?”

 

*

 

A few days later, Erik arrived home from a very trying day with what Hannibal had come to call “your charming little employees”. Victor had heard himself called this at least once and thought it sounded a little too much like a phallic joke. Mortimer had then retorted that phallic was always on Victor’s mind. Mortimer then proceeded to run for his life.

 

Feeling mentally and physically exhausted, Erik hoped that Hannibal had already begun making dinner, or at least had on some pleasant music. Sure enough, he heard something rather familiar playing on the stereo when he opened the door and he smiled, putting up his coat and removing his shoes. That music almost sounded like…

 

Oh dear. The aria. Erik was about to call out to Hannibal with a remark about how the strings sounded on the CD track when he realized his companion was speaking to someone in the other room. He briskly walked to into the parlor and naturally Hannibal was not alone. He had a guest.

 

The violinist from the concert.

 

“Erik, you’re home,” Hannibal greeted him with a smile. “Emilio, this is Erik. Erik, Emilio.”

 

Erik’s eyes were wide to the point of comical. “Hello.”

 

“We were just talking about the concert,” Hannibal continued on his previous line of thought, “especially that incomparable aria…”

 

“Darling.” Erik’s voice was high and piercing, though his expression was wooden. “Could you join me in the kitchen for a moment?”

 

“Certainly. Excuse me, Emilio.” Hannibal stood up, leaving his rather puzzled guest alone in the parlor as he followed Erik into the kitchen.

 

“Is this some kind of joke??” Erik demanded.

 

“Please, keep your voice down,” Hannibal calmly said.

 

“You gave him our names!” the other man argued. Hannibal’s eyebrows lifted in faint surprise.

 

“You overreact. I gave him your name. And only the first. He’s much too simpleminded to recognize you.”

 

“How can you be so sure? Oh, you’ve put me off track… the point is that he’s HERE! In this house! If he gets wise to us, we’ll be completely bollixed!”

 

Erik did not resort to crude language often. Hannibal knew he had hit a nerve.

 

“When we started to live with each other,” Erik said, his voice now very low and very irate, “we only made a few agreements. The most important one that we both promised was to not take our work home with us.”

 

“Yes, I remember,” Hannibal said, utterly calm. “I have only brought over a guest. It does not mean I have brought him here for dinner.”

 

“The one person who ruined the concert for you and you haven’t brought him over for dinner?” Erik all but scoffed, arms crossed. “That isn’t like you at all.”

 

“I assure you,” Hannibal said, smile showing his white teeth. “I am keeping to our agreement. You needn’t worry.”

 

Erik lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”

 

“I am.”

 

“But I know your tastes, Hannibal,” Erik quietly argued, instinctively lowering his voice when he said his companion’s name.

 

“I apologize for bringing my work home with me.” Hannibal said, his face very serious and sincere. Erik only stared, waiting.

 

“That’s all?”

 

Hannibal leaned in close and whispered in his friend’s ear. The metallic nature of his voice was even more so when he spoke in hushed tones.

 

“Our guest is the only one who knows our location. It is all taken care of. Trust me.”

 

Eyebrow lifted, Erik pursed his lips and glanced at the other man.

 

“Do you promise to do your business out of the house?”

 

“On my heart.”

 

Erik could not help but titter. Shaking his head he nudged against the face still close to his ear. Strangely enough he never felt threatened when Hannibal got this close.

 

“Alright. But if that boorish brute overstays his welcome, I’ll come on to you in front of him.”

 

“If you insist,” Hannibal replied, sounding indifferent. Sometimes Erik was good at helping think up games the doctor could play. But the good doctor was perfectly well off playing his own games. Indeed he intended to honor the agreement made between himself and Erik when they first began living together. He would not procure his latest stores of meat in the house.

 

But Erik’s agreement never mentioned anything about their gardens.


	9. Intermingling Careers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Erik have issues over who does what. And to whom.

Dates were a bit of a tricky thing with a couple like Erik and Hannibal. Most of the time their “romantic” excursions involved locations where they would not be recognized quite so easily as others. Fortunately they remained on the move so often that little worry of their discovery was to be had. But even so, a large number of their dates were really just assignments from their respective careers that just so happened to be attended by both of them.

Their most recent outing together took place in one of the seedier parts of London. Both were heavily dressed, both due to weather and avoiding suspicion. Having split up, Erik went on to have a brief meeting with his Brotherhood whilst Hannibal wandered off to “run some errands”. Erik hardly wanted to know the real reason.

Meeting up at a street corner less than an hour later, neither looked the worse for wear. This hardly meant anything when it came to Hannibal.

“I trust matters went well,” the doctor greeted him. They continued on their way, their destination a local bar owned by a mutant on good terms with Erik. The master of magnetism nodded.

“Whatever did you get yourself up to?” he asked. The morbid curiosity had won out in the end.

“Oh, simply up to my usual tricks. Nothing too regrettable though… not to you anyway.”

Erik sighed as they took their seats at the bar. As they enjoyed their drinks, some notice was taken by other patrons towards the television screen bolted to the wall. Though Hannibal hardly seemed to regard the broadcast, Erik was nearly glued to the screen as a news reporter was explaining the occurrences of what was happening not three blocks away.

“… where several men were attacked. Two have been killed, while another is in hospital in critical condition. Though no motive has been confirmed or denied, the men are known criminals who were known to regularly act as keepers of Sharia Law…”

Several of the patrons cheered. It was no secret that the vigilantes in question had regularly sought out not only the average human, but countless mutants as well.

“Something bothering you, dear?” Erik heard Hannibal calmly ask him.

“Hmm.” The other said, staring in disbelief. “That was prompt.”

“Sorry?”

“Those were Toad and Sabretooth’s targets. They’ve set a record for themselves.”

“Mm.”

Erik took a moment to consider the seemingly blatant lack of interest coming from his lover and turned to face him.  
“Haven’t they?” he asked suspiciously.

“You did ask about my errands,” Hannibal replied.

Erik suppressed a groan of annoyance while the rest of the bar crowded around the tv set.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that. I don’t barge in on your personal outings.”

“I would hope not, not with your type of employment.”

“Oh yes?” Erik snorted, finishing his drink and ordering another. “I suppose you’d likely eat my ‘employees’, as you call them.”

“Please,” Hannibal said dismissively. “Someone of Mortimer’s genetic accoutrements is hardly worth being by product. Although the notion of preparing the world’s largest meal of frog’s legs is certainly an amusing notion…”

Erik was not sure what was worse about the reply: that Hannibal had actually taken consideration into eating his comrades or that he had investigated far enough to conclude they were truly beneath his refined tastes.


	10. Yuletide Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interesting not-quite-so-Christmassy season.

Whenever Erik thought he had reached the extent to which Hannibal could be an absolute pain in the backside, he reminded himself he could still be surprised. And nowhere had it been more surprising than when the winter holiday seasons. Erik had almost expected no celebrating whatsoever, as both of them not only began their early lives as Jewish (half so in the case of one of them), but moved into their later lives as atheist. But sure enough, Hannibal barely even protested to the notion.

 

“Perhaps not Christmas itself,” he said casually. “But the Yuletide season.” Even so, he refused to have a tree, one of the most prominent factors of Yule, as he did not see the point of slowly killing a tree just to put it in a room all coated in tinsel and lights.

 

“So what does a person of your refined tastes do for the ‘Yuletide Season’?” Erik asked sardonically. “Go to naughty children and threaten them with switches?”

 

“If they were as cynical as you, they might get worse. In truth, I find it an ideal time for peace and reflection. But since you seem to think this is what I do every day, I’m open to suggestions.”

 

Erik gave the offer some thought and a small smile formed on his face.

 

*

 

It was one of the few times that Erik seemed far more laid back than Hannibal. Perhaps because while the good doctor was perfectly in control of his own mind… he could not say the same for telepaths. Even so, he had done extensive research on those Erik knew and cared about. The only way he showed anything that resembled unease was in his strange silence on the way to the extravagant mansion.

 

Erik had never seen Hannibal look in any way uncertain, and he wondered if this really was a good idea.

 

*

 

The rest of the evening followed surprisingly quietly. Though the mansion was not empty, Charles had arranged for an area to be devoid of anyone other than himself and his two guests, and that included his own brand of “charming employees”. An ideal scenario, as Hannibal would have likely had a world of a time mentally eviscerating each of them otherwise, especially the emotionally crippled plebian with the claws. At least with that one, Erik could keep him from reducing Hannibal to bits only worthwhile for gravy.

 

In fact, the total absence of anything out of the ordinary during the dinner had Erik increasingly worried by the end of the evening. Pleasantries and good manners were exchanged, and as the couple rode away from the mansion with Mystique behind the wheel, Erik was barely able to unclench his fingers from their grip on his knees.

 

“That was pleasant,” Hannibal stated as he watched the world pass by through the car window. Erik’s hands relaxed, but only slightly.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. Mr. Xavier is quite the gentleman. I can see why the two of you are friends. A pity about those irreconcilable differences in opinion…”

 

“Ah…”  A few more minutes of silence passed before the master of magnetism finally addressed the elephant in the room… or rather in passenger seats. “Did he… happen to say anything? That he hadn’t shared with me, I mean. Did you feel anything that felt like he might have been searching through your mind?”

 

Hannibal’s mouth turned up just a little at the corners. “Don’t be jealous, my dear. He only saves that for you.”

 

Erik’s first instinct was to be indignant, but he caught himself and thought back on the visit. He knew Hannibal would have taken umbrage with Charles looking through his personal inner world. And Charles, intelligent as always, knew Hannibal would, and having no quarrel with him, resisted searching. Even if he were tempted… looking inside that snake pit that was the cannibal’s mind would have ruined the remainder of his days, let alone the holiday season.

 

“He’s a gentleman,” the doctor repeated. Erik gave a slight smile like his lover.

 

“Yes, he is.”


	11. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik finds Hannibal in a rare state of vulnerability.

Erik awoke at 6, the sun not yet peeking over the mountains. Eyes closed, he stretched his arms, partly for the sake of stretching, partly to explore the other side of the mattress. His hand touched the cool, vacant surface of a bedspread.

Not that he was surprised. He had fallen asleep next to an unoccupied half of the bed, and as far as he could tell, his bedmate had not even settled down once in the night.

Erik held back the sense of alarm. Hannibal had not always told his companion of his plans, or when he would be out at all hours, but as of late, he had come to sharing such information more often with Erik. Yawning, Erik rose from bed and went downstairs, heading for the kitchen.

The lights were out all through the house except for the dining room. Hannibal sat at one end of the dining table, Montrachet in hand. Normally the dignified man would have been wearing sensible pajamas and a robe, but Erik had found his friend this morning in not but an open shirt, underwear, and lime green slippers.

The final touch to this surreal image was the disembodied hand. Erik glanced at it, feminine and bloodless, lying unbothered on a silver plate at the center of the table. Erik had been granted the privilege of seeing a lot of dead bodies over the years, both in childhood during the forties and in recent times when in the company of Hannibal, and based on his experiences, he surmised the limb to have been thawing for hours, possibly since the previous evening. Had his friend brought the hand out as his own version of a midnight snack, only to not even bother eating it?

Hannibal was silent as a corpse. He never got drunk, but he appeared to have been drinking for several hours, based on the rheumy quality of his eyes. Or he had been crying, and Erik doubted that. Approaching the far end of the table, Erik took a seat opposite his companion. Erik did not even seem to notice he was no longer alone, staring at nothing.

“Good morning,” Erik finally said, not expecting a response at this point. Hannibal blinked, but otherwise said and did nothing. It was a start anyway.

Erik could not figure it out. What was causing such manners in his friend and lover? He had never claimed to have fully understood Hannibal, but he thought he had picked up a few things by now to know the other man’s typical behavior. Barely the most brilliant minds in the FBI could understand a mind such as Hannibal’s, and the only one who had come remotely close was…

Oh dear. An idea formed in Erik’s mind, and he was wondering if he should even bring the subject to light.

“It’s… that day, isn’t it?” he asked, very carefully. He would not say any names. He would not mention… her.

Hannibal finally looked at him, and a chill threatened to run through Erik’s spine and cause him to shiver. He remained still and only waited, waited for something more.

Maroon eyes closed for several seconds, deliberate and slow. Reliving a memory…? Erik could only wonder.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” he asked.

When Hannibal’s eyes opened once more, he stared at Erik in a way that made the man even more uncomfortable. Those eyes had anger behind him, though they faked passiveness.

“I apologize,” Erik said, moving to stand up. “I’m going to make tea if you would care for some.”

No answer. Erik was about to leave his companion alone for however long required, but that metallic, biting voice stopped him.

“I will not discuss it today,” the voice said, and Erik thought he could have heard sadness in it. “But someday… perhaps.”

Erik did not turn around. He was afraid to see what expression may be marking Hannibal’s face. He only paused, then proceeded into the kitchen. 

One day he would learn more of the beloved Clarice, but not now. Today was a day of remembering.


End file.
